


Broken Soldier

by HiddenTreasures



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTreasures/pseuds/HiddenTreasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose fears the worst when she suddenly loses all contact with James halfway through his service contract with the military.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the wonderful dimensionhoppingrose over on Tumblr, who requested Ten x Rose, going off to war AU

“So what do you think?”

Rose glanced up at him from where she was curled up on the sofa. Tears stung her eyes as she looked him up and down, her eyes skating across his government-issue military uniform. He had a smile on his face as he did a little twirl in front of her, but even Rose could see the tightness around his eyes and mouth.

James must have seen the tears she was trying to blink away, because his face softened and he murmured, “C’mere.”

Rose launched herself at him and wrapped her arms tightly around James’s shoulders. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled his familiar scent, spicy and musky and warm, as she melted completely into his embrace. She committed it all to memory, how he felt, smelled, and tasted, not knowing when (if) she would see him again.

“It’s selfish, I know, but I wish you didn’t have to go,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

James pressed his lips to her temple and bit back his agreement; he didn’t want to go either, but his country and countrymen needed him. Besides, if his luck held, he would never even see the front lines; they’d drafted him for his medical expertise, and he wanted to help people that needed him.

A sharp succession of honks broke them apart, and Rose cast a tearful glance at the door.

“That’ll be your taxi,” she whispered.

James leaned down and captured her lips between his, and snogged her for all she was worth. He sucked her top lip into his mouth as she nibbled on his bottom lip. James could spend hours just kissing Rose, and he knew he would if they didn’t break apart now. He eased them out of the kiss gradually, and planted one, two, three brief kisses to her lips.

“I want this uniform back in one piece, you hear?” she ordered, tilting his head down to place one last, lingering kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, sir,” he said facetiously, grinning cheekily at her.

The taxi honked again, and James grumbled under his breath.

“You better write me,” Rose ordered, walking him to the door.

“All the time,” he promised, making an _X_ over his heart like they were seven year old again.

And then he was gone.

For the first few months, things were going as well as could be expected. Rose would get a letter from James every few weeks, and she would likewise respond. He told her about his travels across the various countries they sent him, and of the locals he’d met and befriended along the way. Rose couldn’t help but smile; he always was a social being, and people just seemed to gravitate towards him.

Rose told him all about the shenanigans going on in London: drama with her mother, boring days and rude customers down at the shops, her musings over adopting a cat. ( _You’re replacing me already?_ he teased, and Rose could almost see his boyish pout and raised eyebrow).

After awhile, the time between letters gradually started increasing. James apologized profusely and assured Rose that he was okay, but that he was incredibly busy and the military was shipping him from place to place faster than ever.

After James was overseas for six months, the letters stopped completely. Rose was frantic. She sent him dozens of letters, each getting longer and more worrisome. When she still didn’t hear back, she started phoning the government and the military for any news of James or his unit. They always told her sorry, but it was classified.

After five months of silence from James and the military, Rose’s family tried to tell her to let go, that he wasn’t coming home.

“You don’t know him,” she told her mother tearfully one afternoon. “He’s not dead. And I’m gonna wait for him, just like he’d wait for me.”

Her family said nothing more to her, but still gave her sad, pitying looks every time they saw her.

It was nearly a year since James had left home when Rose’s phone rang in the middle of the night. She was asleep, curled around James’s pillow as usual, and didn’t want to get out of bed for what was most likely a crank call or someone who’d dialed the wrong number. The machine would get it. She nestled further into the blankets and kept an ear out for a message. There was a long pause of silence, and Rose figured the caller had just hung up, until she heard an achingly familiar voice.

“Rose?” James asked softly. “Are you there? Rose? It’s me. Please, Rose. I-I need…”

Rose was up and out of bed at the first sound of his voice. She darted to the kitchen, praying he wouldn’t hang up. She heard his voice choke off, and tears filled her eyes at the sound of his tears. She finally reached the blasted phone and picked up.

“Yes, hello, I’m here,” she breathed. “James? James, is that you? James?”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and Rose’s heart dropped into her stomach. He’d hung up.

But then she heard a ragged intake of breath, and she exhaled sharply in relief.

“Oh, thank God!” she gasped, her knees threatening to buckle out from under her. “Where are you?”

“I’m at a hotel,” he whispered, his voice breaking and wavering. “Can you…I need…please.”

“Which hotel?” she asked, and he gave her the name of a cheap hotel five minutes down the road. Five bloody minutes. “I’ll be right there, James. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.”

Rose ran to her bedroom, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, one of James’s sweatshirts, and her trainers, before grabbing her keys and phone and running out of the flat. She didn’t stop running until she made it to the hotel and jabbed at the button to the lift.

“C’mon c’mon c’mon,” she mumbled under her breath impatiently, needing to see James, needing to see that he was okay, needing to assure herself this all wasn’t a dream.

It seemed to be the slowest lift in London, but Rose finally made it to the fifth floor and she ran to room 510.

“James?” she asked, knocking loudly on the door. “James, it’s me, let me in!”

The door clicked open, and Rose pushed her way through. Her breath left her lungs in a great _whoosh_ as she finally saw him for the first time in twelve months.

“James,” she sobbed, running up to him and throwing her arms around his neck.

He stayed completely still for a long moment, his arms limply at her sides, until he wrapped his arms around her waist and crushed her to him. He clung to her as though he were a drowning man at sea. Rose tightened her hold on him as he shuddered in her arms, her neck dampening with his tears.

“Shh,” she soothed, stroking his back while trying to swallow her own tears. “Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. It’s okay…”

She continued this mantra for several long moments as he cried into her shoulder. Fear stabbed at her heart as she wondered what had happened to him while he was in the service; she’d never seen him this upset before.

Finally, he quieted, and he pulled back slightly. Rose leaned back to look up at him; his face was so pale and thin, his eyes lost their happy luster, and there were deep lines etched across his face. He looked absolutely exhausted and emotionally drained.

“Come sit,” she suggested, guiding him to the bed. “How long have you been here?”

Rose glanced around the room and saw various articles of clothing strewn around the room, like he’d been here for awhile.

“A couple weeks,” he whispered, rubbing his hands nervously across his thighs.

“James!” she yelled, pulling away from him. “Why didn’t you come home? Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick about you, I thought you’d _died_!”

The emotions of the past year seemed to hit her at once, and this time James rocked her from side to side as she cried for him and for her and for all they had gone through.

“I couldn’t come home,” he murmured when the tears stopped. “I just couldn’t. I did things… I killed people. You deserved better than a murderer.”

Rose’s heart broke at the utter desolation in his voice.

“You did what you had to do,” she told him gently, taking his hand in hers and rubbing her thumb across the back of his. “If there was any other way, I know you would’ve done that instead. You had no choice. And I promised you forever, James. I meant that. I am _never_ going to leave you. Nothing you do or say can make me leave you. You’re stuck with me.”

James let out a muffled sob as he pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her jaw, kissing every inch of her face, until he finally pressed his lips to hers. It was gentle and chaste, just his lips against hers, soft and sweet.

When they pulled back, both of their cheeks were damp, their tears intermingling.

“I love you,” she breathed, resting her forehead against his. “And I’ve _missed_ you.”

“I missed you, too, Rose,” he whispered, hugging her fiercely once more. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I thought if I just cut off contact, you would move on, and live the fantastic life you deserve.”

Rose let out a wry chuckle and smacked his chest lightly.

“Never gonna happen,” she whispered, exhaustion settling thickly over her. “And you’re daft for thinking so.”

He breathed out a chuckle and pressed his lips to her hair.

“Yeah, I’m gathering that,” he said, trying to stifle a yawn.

Rose heard it anyway, and said, “You should get some sleep.”

She made to stand up, but his grip tightened around her, his hand holding her arm almost tight enough to bruise.

“Stay with me?” he asked, his voice so small and unsure that Rose wanted to cry for him again.

“Always,” she whispered. “I’m never leaving you. Never.”

Rose stripped down to her knickers and vest, with James following suit. Rose curled herself around him once they were under the covers, planting her head on his chest and draping her arm over his hips.

James curled his arm around her shoulders, and pressed his lips to her forehead lightly.

“I’m so sorry, Rose,” he whispered again, his breath tickling her hair. “I love you. God, I love you. I missed you so much.”

Rose’s thumb brushed gentle circles across his abdomen, and she nuzzled closer to his warmth.

“I love you, too,” she mumbled, feeling a heavy fog of lethargy fall over her.

It had been a year since she cuddled with her best friend and lover, and she never wanted to go a night without him again. She was still furious at him for worrying her so, but for now he needed her and he needed her support. She could deal with her own emotions on her own time, and they could talk it through more thoroughly later. For now, she allowed herself to be happy and content and thankful that he returned home to her.

She pressed her lips lightly to his chest once more before succumbing to the welcoming arms of sleep.


End file.
